Mark Waldrop
My name is Mark. I’m just an old country boy. My heart He filled April 26, 2021, with rhyming joy God showed up and gave the gift of rhyming to me I now share it with all who listen for His Beauty to see Mark my Words MarkWaldrop KE4WA Email ke7wa@juno.com
In a realm where shadows stretch and wide rivers flow, Amidst the whispers of ancient winds that secrets know, There lies a single path, narrow, with a gentle glow, Where souls, weary and yearning, to seek and grow.
No other way to the divine, no other route to trod, But through the grace of His Son, the blessed Son of God. Beneath the heavens’ expanse, on verdant earth we lay, Bowing our heads in humility as we fervently pray.
Jesus, the bridge over sin’s tumultuous sea, Offers His hand, His heart, to set the burdened free. Through whispered prayers, and tears silently cried, He guides us, His light unwavering, at our side.
The world spins, relentless, in its orbit’s bind, Yet in His presence, a peace we surely find. With heads bowed low, in reverence profound, In the quiet sanctum where His grace abounds.
For no golden idols, nor earthly kings’ decrees, Can lead us to the peace that Jesus freely gives. Only through His love, so vast, so deep, so wide, Can we cross the chasm to stand by His side.
Thus, walk the path, in faith may you tread, Through the Son to God, just as He said. In every bowed head, every prayer’s gentle sway, Lies the sacred passage, the truth, the way.
April 13, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Give me strength when I am weak,
In feeble moments, let courage peak.
Give me love when hate takes hold,
A gentle warmth within the cold.
Give me forgiveness when I condemn,
To see beyond fault’s diadem.
Give me compassion when I see hurt,
A tender balm for pain’s assert.
Give me action when I see need,
To be the hands that plant the seed.
For in giving, I receive,
And in freeing others, I am set free.
April 26, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In quiet grace, yet strong with pride, Humble heart, with courage wide. Where hides the joy of tales foretold? In whispered winds, in scripts of old.
I bow my head, yet rise in might, Stretching soul to heaven’s light. My heart ascends, beyond the fray, In the embrace of break of day.
For in the hands of God’s own Son, Where faith and action weave as one, All dreams may bloom, and fears allay—For those who trust, who kneel and pray.
April 26, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the quiet corners of the heart,
Where whispers trace the start,
Lies a peace that softly treads,
Beyond what chaos spreads.
It flows like a silent stream,
In the gentle hold of a dream,
Where troubles melt and fade,
Underneath the willow’s shade.
This peace, it knows no bound,
Nor needs a world profound,
It wraps the soul in a gentle embrace,
In the bustling crowd, a solitary space.
So precious, this serene expanse,
It comes not by luck nor chance,
But in moments small and grand,
It’s found in the palm of an open hand.
Understanding, a subtle guest,
In this peace, it finds its rest,
A calm that covers like evening dew,
Show me this peace, ever true.
April 25, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In verdant fields where soft winds sway,
The shepherd’s call, at break of day,
Guides us where peaceful waters flow,
In paths where only the righteous go.
The better we know our guiding hand,
Less fear we hold, on this vast land.
His voice, a beacon, firm and true,
In mists of doubt, it leads us through.
For strangers’ calls may lead astray,
To shadowed vales, far from the way.
But his warm tones, so deep and wise,
Light up the stars in darkened skies.
So cling to words from lips that care,
And find in him solace from despair.
The more his essence we embrace,
The less we’ll chase a fleeting chase.
In knowing him, we find our peace,
In his embrace, all fears may cease.
The shepherd true, his flock he knows,
Wherever he leads, sure safety goes.
April 24, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the quiet heart’s uncertain murmur,
Voices clash, divine or purely human?
Scriptures lay out paths in ancient rumor,
Yet daily life stirs questions more than an illusion
Pray, the sage advice, for clarity,
Wisdom sought in whispers not in storms.
The Bible, a light on paths we scarcely see,
Its verses shield against the false in forms.
The Spirit prompts, yet so do darker powers, to
What’s holy, masked in fleeting, tempting hours.
We study words divine, the scriptures’ call,
To judge each fleeting thought, each subtle pull.
The Holy Spirit guides, through thick and thin,
Ensuring fruits of love and peace within.
But questions loom like shadows in the mind,
Is this God’s voice, or another kind?
Test each spirit, counsel wise and old,
For God’s true path is peace, not whispers cold.
With mentors’ words and scripture as our guide,
We navigate life’s seas, with God beside.
The Good Shepherd leads, His voice so clear,
In Him, we trust, without doubt or fear.
April 24, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
A friend loves at all times, with a heart sincere,
Through seasons of joy, through shadows of fear.
Unwavering, steadfast, a beacon so bright,
A solace in darkness, in sorrow’s harsh night.
And born of such trials, when troubles amass,
A brother emerges, as strong as brass.
In adversity’s clutch, where hardships are rife,
He stands by your side, defending through strife.
Together, entwined by the threads of pure care,
In storms and in calm, a bond rare and fair.
For love knows no bounds, and kinship no end,
A friend and a brother, on whom you depend.
Pro 17:17 A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.
April 24, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the Valley of Cancer, I tread softly,
With faith as my guide, where shadows loom large.
Trusting in God’s embrace, unseen but felt,
Through paths where light and dark converge.
Healing whispers in the winds of grace,
A journey not walked in solitude.
Each step a testament, every breath a prayer,
Where victories are woven in fortitude.
Beyond this vale, the promise of dawn,
Bright with the hues of hope’s gentle spread.
I carry on, heart bound to divine threads,
Believing in the triumphs that lie ahead.
April 23, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Beans and Cornbread Day
Rain taps at the window, a gentle, steady drum, Clouds cradle the sky in a somber, grey hum.The world outside whispers, soft and gray, Perfect for bean soup and cornbread day.
In the kitchen, the pot sings a bubbling tune, Rich aromas dance under the sleepy noon. Beans simmering, a hearty, warm ballet, Cornbread golden, in the oven’s sway.
Outside, the rain sketches paths on the glass, Inside, comfort foods convene en masse. Together they meld in a perfect array, On this quiet, nurturing, rainy day.
Pull up a chair, let the warmth cascade, Savor each spoonful, in buttery shade. For nothing quite lifts the spirits this way, Like bean soup and cornbread to brighten the day.
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the quiet hours, beneath the silvered hue,
I fold my hands, grappling with what is true.
Not to command the heavens, nor chart the skies,
But to whisper the worries that within me lie.
I can’t steer the stars, nor mold the divine plan,
I’m just a sojourner, doing all that I can.
To the vast, unseen Listener above the thrum,
I speak my heart and pray, “Thy Will be done.”
For in the tapestry, where cosmic threads intertwine,
My voice is faint—a mere echo in the divine.
Yet in humble tones, I relinquish my plea,
A fragile hope cast on an eternal sea.
Not to alter the winds, or calm the raging storm,
But to trust the One who holds all form.
In the stillness, my spirit seeks to align
With the pulse of the sacred, the timeless, the divine.
So I lay down my wishes, my dreams, my fears,
In the lap of the Infinite, beyond the sphere.
And though I can’t command, nor the outcomes see,
In this act of surrender, there’s a profound liberty.
For faith is not forcing one’s will to be done,
But embracing the dance with the Holy One.
Thus, with each tender prayer that I compose,
I find peace in the promise that He knows.
April 22, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In shadows deep where troubles see athe and pain does oft recall, Is it better thus to bear the grieve than not have breathed at all? For life, in sacred trust bestowed by hands that sculpt the spheres, Holds more than just the paths we’ve trod—beyond our fleeting fears.
Yes, life is holy, gifted pure, from the Creator’s loving plea, A tapestry, both rich and sure, woven with threads of sanctity. Through valleys low where darkness lies, His light forever proves That life itself, through Jesus’ eyes, is precious and it moves.
For in His love, we find the strength to rise beyond our pain, To bear our crosses, stretch our lengths, in loss there’s much to gain. Though trials come and storms may rage, and tears like rivers flow, His presence marks each sorrowed page, with promises that grow.
So hold this life with reverent hands, and tread its hallowed ground, Embrace the heart’s courageous plans where hope and faith are found. To live with trouble, to endure, with Jesus at our side, Secures an anchor, safe and sure, in whom we can confide.
For life is more than fleeting breath, it’s a journey bold and new, Each moment spent is saved from death, when lived beneath His view. So yes, it’s better far to live, despite the pain we face, For through His Son, God’s love He gives, and holds us in His grace.
April 22, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop